


Leave it to the Dysentery

by oflgtfol



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF
Genre: Dysentery, Fever Dreams, M/M, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, Wet Dream, his real ass diary, this actually happened i read his diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 08:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13655481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oflgtfol/pseuds/oflgtfol
Summary: “Yes?” His voice was soft, and higher than you had thought it was. You had never really listened to his speeches, too distracted by his athletic build and chiseled features. The sound of his voice so close made you weak, but maybe that was the dysentery. Was this another fever dream or was George Washington himself actually speaking to you?Serving in the Continental Army during the Revolution, you are quickly infatuated with the handsome General Washington. Yet, as a simple private, there's no way you can ever hope to catch his attention. Or is there?





	Leave it to the Dysentery

**Author's Note:**

> collab with my good friend [all-alone-in-a-daydream](http://all-alone-in-a-daydream.tumblr.com/) on tumblr,

The year was 1777. You had been given the honor of serving your country in the American Revolution, an opportunity to secure independence from Britain, under the leadership of the valiant George Washington. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were. George Washington was the most brilliant strategist the nation had ever seen; the most qualified man to run the Continental Army. He was just so brave and admirable, and you’ve looked up to him ever since he returned home from the Seven Year’s War. Not to mention that he was insanely handsome and every time he so much as glanced in your direction, you looked away, fearing he would notice how flustered you were to be in such close proximity to him. The last thing you wanted was for the general to think you were weak.

You were currently stationed in Valley Forge, waiting out with the Continental Army as the British made their way further west. It was meant to allow the army to recuperate from their losses, but the winter was harsh, too harsh for the army to handle. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a decent meal. The fires did nothing to keep you warm, and sanitation was practically nonexistent. Disease spread easily between the troops. It was only a matter of time before you too succumbed to it all.

So there you were, left only in the company of sick patients in a tent, fighting a disease that many of your comrades fell victim to: dysentery. You had never been in more pain in your entire life. On the least comfortable mat you’ve probably ever slept on, you laid, curled up on one side in writhing agony. Your abdomen felt like it was on fire. In fact, your entire body felt like it was on fire; your head was especially burning up. Not only that, but you were afflicted by a serious case of diarrhea, the least pleasant side effect of dysentery. Having dysentery was like a battlefield in and of itself. You certainly felt that the bloodshed that accompanied it set the mood, and in this fight you grew weary.

Your fevered mind conjured up images of the past, forgotten memories dragged up from the deepest recesses of your thoughts. You saw your mother at the kitchen table sewing, the setting sun casting a golden halo around her. You saw the tree outside your childhood home that you had climbed nearly everyday. You saw the ground come up to meet you as you fell out of it, and you felt the pain as your arm broke. You saw your little sister’s face, not as little as you always remembered her to be, scrunched up in anger and despair as you walked away to enlist in the army. You missed her more than you could’ve ever predicted. If you listened hard enough, you could still hear her voice as she begged you not to go.

If you reached out, maybe you could touch her hair once more, just as you used to when you were both children. Your fingers trembled as you lifted your arm, desperation granting you energy. If you could speak, you might have called her name.

Your fingers came into contact with something, but it wasn’t the soft hair you expected. Instead, they met stiff wool. The hallucinations cleared with the sensation. You saw that you were not clutching your sister, but instead the coat of someone who had walked past you, forcing them to stop short.

As sluggish as you felt, there was no denying who was standing in front of you. It was **_THE_ ** man you had grown to admire so much, George Washington. You didn’t know whether to be excited or embarrassed. After all, he was clearly trying to walk past you and you so rudely grabbed onto him. Not only that, but he’s a _general_. You had no right to be touching someone so important. Or, at the very least, you didn’t feel worthy to do so. But you were so happy that out of all the people in the world, he was the one you had the fortune to wake up to.

“Yes?” His voice was soft, and higher than you had thought it was. You had never really listened to his speeches, too distracted by his athletic build and chiseled features. The sound of his voice so close made you weak, but maybe that was the dysentery. Was this another fever dream or was George Washington himself actually speaking to you?

Your throat was too swollen and dehydrated to respond, so all you were able to do was stare at him blankly. You were scared that the general would reprimand you for rude behavior, but instead you were taken aback. He smiled at you, realizing you were probably suffering from dysentery.

“You should rest,” he said, calmly. “When I was about your age, I had dysentery too. It’s a grueling battle, so you need to conserve your energy.”

Hearing those words made your head spin. You were so delirious that you couldn’t tell dreams apart from reality. But having the general so close to you… it just felt all too real to be a hallucination!

The general frowned at your lack of a reaction. “Are you receiving treatments?”

You were astonished. _The_ General Washington inquired about _your_ well-being. You shook your head slightly. As far as recruits went, treating you wasn’t a priority. They just kind of shoved you off in a tent somewhere along with the other sick patients, with the doctor only popping his head in every once in awhile to check on you.

General Washington’s frown deepened, his eyes filled with concern. He whirled around and scanned the tent before striding towards the doctor who was currently bent over another patient in the back. You saw the general begin speaking with the doctor and gesture towards you. It seemed like he may have raised his voice, but you were fading in and out and could no longer tell. The doctor looked startled and uncomfortable through the whole interaction, clutching his notes to his chest like a safeguard. After a minute or so - your perception of time wasn’t the best at the moment - the general approached you once more, his fists clenched at his sides and his face red.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to move you into my tent,” he said once he was by your side. He had a faraway look in his eyes.

This was all so weird to you. What was so special about _you,_ when there were so many other people fighting off the same sickness? Regardless, you couldn’t help but feel elated that George Washington would choose you of all people. But if he was moving you into his tent, that meant you and the general would be alone, together. Just the two of you alone in his own personal tent was enough to make you blush. You prayed that if the general saw your face, he would simply dismiss it as a fever.

The general looked outside the tent and saw two soldiers in close proximity. He ordered them to enter to aid in transporting you to his tent. The soldiers shot each other a look, but refused to be insubordinate. They each entered the tent and grabbed hold of your cot. As they lifted you up, your stomach jolted and the world spun around you.

“Be careful!” The general snapped at the two.

You were jostled around a bit, and the next thing you knew you were being set down again. Above you was the covering of a green tent, much smaller than the medical tent you had been in before. You heard some murmuring to your right, but you couldn’t understand any particular words. You felt stuck in limbo between waking and sleeping, between dreams and reality.

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because it was dawn by the time your mind cleared once more. You took the chance to look around the tent from where you lay. The tent really wasn’t that large; the general’s own cot was only a few feet away. Your eyes widened as you realized that he was standing in the gap between the two cots, his bare back to you. You let out a small gasp at the sight. His muscles flexed as he pulled a shirt over his head. Your face burned with such intensity that you wondered if the blanket would catch fire. The general pulled on his coat afterwards and then turned around, eyebrows raising when he saw that you were awake.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, voice warm. You blinked owlishly. You could hardly believe that this was actually happening.

“Better now that you’re here,” is what you wanted to say, but as soon as the urge welled up inside you, you swallowed your words and opted for a different approach.

“Thirsty,” you said instead, voice raspy with disuse.

He nodded in understanding before grabbing a nearby jug, bringing it closer to your mouth. You reached out with shaking hands as he held it to your lips. The water was a blessing on your parched throat.

“Better now?” Concern was clear in his voice. You nodded.

“Yes, thank you.”

The general let out a sigh of relief. “Good, I’m glad.” He grabbed a rag that was sitting on top of his cot and wiped the beads of sweat off your forehead. It felt so strange to have the general at your bedside, but it was a good kind of strange. You wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“You need to eat to keep your strength up,” he told you. “Luckily I grabbed an extra ration with you in mind.” He retrieved a small bowl that had been on top of his desk and brought it over to you. You could see that it was full of rice as he took a spoonful and brought it to your mouth.

You couldn’t believe it. General Washington was feeding you. You didn’t know if you should say something or just let it happen, but the words came to you eventually in between spoonfuls.

“M-Mr. Washington…” you began to say, but the general cut you off.

“Please, call me George.” He said softly.

“George, then.” Your voice trembled slightly. You hoped he brushed it off as the dysentery.

George didn’t say anything in response, or even inquire as to what you were trying to tell him before. Was he… smiling? He looked so genuinely happy, as though the sound of his name coming out of your mouth was music to him. Happiness was a very attractive look on his face. You smiled back.

He had to leave shortly after, as training was still important to maintain even during such hard winter months. Meanwhile, you slipped back into your fever dreams, but this time they were full of fond flashes of George’s face, rather than disorganized memories of the past.

A hand on your shoulder shook you awake once more. It was dark out, with the only light source in the tent being a lantern held by the person standing over you. You blinked groggily up at them, vision clearing enough for you to recognize George.

“It’s snowing out,” George sighed as he sat down on the edge of his cot facing you. “Are you warm enough? I think I have a spare blanket.” He examined your face before shaking his head. “No, nevermind, I’ll give it to you anyway.”

You wanted to protest, but he shoved a plate into your hands. There were two slices of bread, a cup of water, and another small bowl of rice on it.

“I’d give you something heavier, especially with this cold, but I didn’t want to make you more sick.” He looked away for a second, sheepish.

“Thank you…” You couldn’t articulate how much you appreciated all his help. He was so thoughtful and kind! If only your mind was clearer and your mouth wasn’t so dry. You looked at him with wide eyes, hoping they could get the message across instead. Was that another blush on his cheeks or was that the red light of the lantern? Your heart skipped a beat in your chest at the sight.

As the night progressed, the temperature continued to drop, until even your two blankets weren’t sufficient enough to keep you warm. Worst of all, all the shivering made your cramps start up again. You had curled into a ball on your cot, both out of the need to conserve heat and to alleviate the pain. The wind howled outside, making the tent shake violently.

“[Y/N]?” George whispered from his cot. Or maybe he spoke at a normal volume, and the wind had drowned it out. You hummed questioningly in response. “I’m worried about you. You’re already so sick, I don’t want this cold to kill you. May I… lay next to you? It will keep you warm.”

Your heart nearly stopped. George? In _your_ cot? Your teenage self would’ve died had you told him that you would one day sleep next to the renowned war hero.

“I… Sure!” You squeaked, hiding your face in your blankets. You heard George shuffling over by his cot, and then your own cot shifted down behind you as he settled in. You unwrapped your blankets enough so he could get under them, and then he pulled his own blanket over you both. His chest pressed against your back, warmth seeping through your shirt. You sighed in content.

You woke in the morning to the news that three feet of snow had fallen overnight. George had swore under his breath and pulled on a pair of longer boots.

Duty called much earlier because of the snow, so he didn’t have time to personally feed you again, but it was alright because you already felt sleep calling once more. The cramps had taken their toll, but the night had given you memories that more than made up for it.

Your fever dreams were less extreme, even comprehensible at some points. The flash of a strong hand gripping your wrist firmly from behind, of a bead of sweat rolling down defined abs, dangerously close to slipping past the hips. Growing heat and pressure between your own legs, the sensation of lips pressing against yours. A hand trailing over your thigh, leaving finger-shaped bruises along the way. Eyes, dark with desire, staring deep into your own, and with sudden clarity you realized they were George’s eyes.

You woke with a start, heart fluttering and sweating profusely. There was a wet spot over your groin. Your mind raced, thinking faster than you’ve ever been able to since getting sick. You just dreamed of having sex with George! You covered your face with your hands, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down. You couldn’t get the image of his hips out of your head.

“I’m coming in!” George warned before he ducked into the tent. You froze where you were, unable to look him in the eyes after such a dream. Tension grew thick in the air as the silence was drawn out.

 

 

A few weeks had gone by, and you felt much closer to your normal self. It was hard to believe that just a little while ago, you felt sicker than you ever had before. You and George had settled into a routine; he would look after you in the morning and then head off somewhere. You didn’t expect this day to be any different. When George left, you shifted anxiously in your cot, eagerly awaiting his return. For the most part the surrounding area remained relatively quiet each day. But today was different. You could hear soldiers having a conversation outside, and with nothing better to do, you listened in.

“You think the general has been spending more time in his tent lately?” One of the men asked.

“Now that you mention it,” the other responded, “I think you’re right. Not only that, I heard a rumor that the general moved a recruit into his tent.”

“You’re kidding!” The first exclaimed, clearly taken aback. “But that does make sense. Why else would he not allow anyone else into his tent? He must be hiding something.”

You heard the footsteps of another person outside. Your broke into a cold sweat, fearful that one of them could waltz in at any moment and discover you. You wondered if they thought satisfying their curiosity was worth all of the punishment their insubordination would bring.

“Hey, have either of you seen Private [Y/N]?” The third one asked. “I went to see how he was doing in the medical tent, since he was in such bad shape when he went in. But the doctor told me he wasn’t there anymore, that General Washington ordered his relocation.”

The other two looked floored. They looked at each other for a moment before the second one muttered, “So that’s who Washington is hiding…”

You began to panic. You didn’t know what would happen if everyone found out. Was this about to bring George’s reputation plummeting back down to earth? But you didn’t do anything wrong! It’s not like _you_ were the one who insisted on moving into George’s tent. He was the one who obliged, he was the one that whisked you away. Your dream had come true, but you were so terrified it would ruin George’s life if it all got out.

Just when you thought the worst was about to happen, a voice cut through the whirlwind of thoughts circling your mind.

“You three should not be idling about during training. It would be in your best interest to leave at once.”

It was George! You had never felt so relieved in your entire life. You felt a twinge of excitement in your chest. George was being protective of _you,_ and it gave you an immense sense of pride. When the soldiers fled, George waited a moment before entering the tent. You figured he would look angry, judging by the way he reprimanded your comrades. But his face had never looked so soft, so… loving?

“Are you okay?” George asked, his eyes welling with concern. “I’m so glad that I got here in time, before they had a chance to give you any trouble.”

“George, I…” You trailed off. You didn’t know what you wanted to say. “Yes, I’m okay” seemed too plain to you, but “I love you” seemed way too forward. After a moment of searching for your words, you bit your lip and sat up in your cot, grabbing George’s arm.

“Please… stay here, with me.”

George’s face turned a bright red. It was probably the first time you saw him at a loss for words. He sat down on the cot with you, his eyes locked on yours. You stared at each other for a few moments, lost in each other’s eyes. Your eyes moved down towards his lips. They looked so soft, so kissable. You leaned in, and he did the same, your lips meeting half-way.  The kiss was quick, but so intoxicating that you couldn’t help pulling him in closer, bringing him back for more.

You were so desperate. You had George right where you had always wanted him to be, and you couldn’t be happier. You pushed him down so that he was resting on his back and you could lean over him. He stared back at you, eyes lidded with desire. You bent down to kiss him once more, slowly this time, letting your lips drag across his with increasing vigor. He.

You moved your hands slowly down his waist towards his thighs. You gently caressed every inch of him on the way down, but when you arrived at the thigh, you abruptly stopped. After a few moments, you were able to slip your fingers into his pants. You could tell he felt the same way that you did.

“Hard already, George?” You could tell he was flustered but you didn't say anything. This was so unlike you; who knew you were such a flirt?


End file.
